


Christmas Collection 2014

by wicked3659



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Christmas Presents, Gen, M/M, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 06:42:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2956181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wicked3659/pseuds/wicked3659
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of three short gift fics for Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Changes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vejiraziel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vejiraziel/gifts), [eerian_sadow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eerian_sadow/gifts), [pl2363](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pl2363/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First chapter:  
> pre war  
> rating: K+

“How are you holding up, Prime?”

The red and blue mech glanced down at his friend and frowned a little. “Do you have to call me that?”

“It is who you are, mech,” raising an optic ridge above his cobalt blue visor, Jazz shifted and hoisted himself up onto the wall Optimus was leaning against, putting himself in direct line of sight of the taller mech. “What would you rather I call you?”

“Optimus, as you well know. Would prefer Orion but apparently that isn’t my name any longer,” the younger mech groused.

Jazz’s mouth twitched into a half amused smile. “That it isn’t. You not like your new name?” he asked with genuine curiosity. He hadn’t been able to see his friend much since he was pronounced as Prime, both their schedules had been too full with their new duties. He hadn’t minded much but he knew that Optimus wasn’t taking to his new role quite so easily so the first chance he’d gotten, he’d escaped to come and check in on his old friend.

“The name I like fine, it’s everything that comes with it that I’m not so keen on.”

Jazz hitched a leg up and leaned on his knee casually. “I didn’t think you were work shy, Optimus,” he teased gently with a cheeky smile.

Sighing and giving Jazz a wry glance, Optimus turned slightly and leaned back against the wall. “Duty I’ve never had a problem with, the kind of duty the council requires of me however,” he paused and looked down at the floor. “Jazz, I’m not sure I’m the mech they want or need.”

Frowning a little, Jazz hummed thoughtfully, his gaze flitting over the council chambers in the next room as their members took their seats. “What do you think is the most important aspect of your job?”

Optics brightening at the question, Optimus looked at his friend. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“Humour me,” Jazz replied with an easy smile.

Looking to the chambers, Optimus thought for a few kliks. “I suppose that I have a voice. Being able to bring the concerns of city leaders and at a deeper level, their people to the audios of the council members, where, we both know, historically, they haven’t been voiced,” he paused and hummed thoughtfully. “A Prime can make a difference, can exact change but the policies my predecessors instituted make that difficult. The council does not like change.”

Jazz nodded in understanding. He had served some of the Primes before Optimus as a mere intelligence analyst but he’d picked up enough to know what was being implemented and how easily bought some of those Primes had been.  Optimus had immediately promoted him and with that role had come the knowledge of how much of a stir Optimus was creating among the council members, especially with his views on equality and his disapproval of the mistreatment of certain classes.

A mech appeared in the doorway, tall and foreboding, drawing Jazz out of his processor. “It’s time, Optimus,” the deep, gravelly voice of Megatron rumbled through the quiet room.

Optimus nodded and pushed away from the wall. “Any advice, my old friend?”

Jazz met his gaze and smiled, placing a hand on the larger mech’s shoulder. “Change will always be met with opposition, Optimus. You might not be the Prime that the council want or need but that makes you exactly the Prime that the people need.”

“Thank you, Jazz,” Optimus smiled faintly behind his mask and nodded as he turned to head into the council chamber.

“Optimus…” Jazz’s voice drew him back and he glanced back at his friend and confidant expectantly.

“Give ‘em _pit_ , Prime.”


	2. Getting to know you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz meets Prowl for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter:   
> pre earth  
> rating: M  
> Warning: sticky

Sliding into his seat after a rough assignment, Jazz sagged and accepted the cube Mirage slid across the table.

“Long cycle?” the former noble drawled, his optics looking over Jazz’s tarnished frame.

“The longest,” came the weary reply. “Remind me again why I want this promotion?” Jazz grumbled, gulping down his cube as if he’d never seen energon before. His systems thrummed gratefully and with a deep intake, Jazz was starting to feel a little better.

“I think you mentioned something about taking control from ignorant glitches who don’t listen to common sense,” Mirage continued dryly.

“Who knew, spec’ ops training could get more difficult, huh?” he gave his friend a smirk and sat back in his seat, visored optics scanning over the recreation room idly. “What’s the news on the intelligence front?”

Mirage pursed his lips and folded his arms. “There have been some… administrative changes.”

“You don’t sound too happy about that, Raj.”

“The new commander of intelligence has proven himself to be,” the noble paused as a look of indignation flashed across his face. “...difficult.”

Jazz chuckled. “Sounds like high praise coming from you,” he teased amicably. Mirage’s reputation for being difficult and uncooperative preceded him.

“Hmpff,” Mirage scoffed and gave Jazz a pointed look with no real animosity.

“So who is he then?”

Mirage frowned and shook his helm. “Let me guess you skipped reading your command updates again.”

Jazz grinned and shrugged. “Been busy, head of special ops isn’t going to earn itself.”

“Hmm, well you’ll very likely meet him at your next command briefing, if you bother to show up,” Mirage chided with the faintest of smirks.

“You wound me,” Jazz feigned injury, placing a hand on his chest over his spark.

“Or you could meet him right now,” the noble added, his smirk fading to a look of disdain.

“Huh?”

“He’s just walked in,” he jerked his helm slightly towards the door and Jazz followed his sharp gaze and his optics brightened as they fell upon the black and white who stood for a klik in the doorway.

“Praxian?”

Mirage nodded. “The very same.”

“Thought they were neutral?”

“Apparently not all.”

Humming softly, Jazz watched as the mech made his way to the dispensers, his optics sharp, observant when he made his way across the room, meeting Jazz’s gaze fleetingly and found himself a seat.

“Doesn’t look that fierce,” Jazz commented mildly.

Mirage huffed indignantly. “It’s not his looks you should be concerned about,” he scowled across the room at the Praxian who was now nose deep in a datapad. “The mech is only what I can describe as an acquired taste.”

Jazz smiled at that. “So are you, mech.”

Glowering at his friend, Mirage vented air slowly and sipped from his cube. “Tread carefully, my friend.”

Glancing over at the quiet black and white, Jazz chuckled and downed a mouthful of energon. “Don’t I always?”

****

“Congratulations on your promotion, Jazz. I’m sure special operations will be in good hands,” Sentinel Prime rumbled as his command staff gathered for their early cycle briefing.

“Prime,” Jazz acknowledged politely with a small bow of his helm.

“May I also introduce our new head of intelligence, First Lieutenant, Prowl. Jazz please ensure he undergoes the training required for his position.”

“Will do, Prime,” Jazz glanced across the table at the stoic Praxian and threw him a friendly grin, receiving a raised optic ridge and an ever so slight cant of the helm in return.

****

“You’re good, mech,” Jazz complimented as he picked himself up off the floor, accepting Prowl’s hand. “Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

“Praxus enforcer academy,” Prowl replied. “I apologise if I hurt y--”

“--No, no, don’t apologise. I like a challenge,” Jazz smirked.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Prowl’s mouth. “You have considerable skill yourself, I think there is a lot we could learn from each other.”

Meeting his gaze, Jazz hummed and nodded. “I think you could be right.”

****

Jazz glanced up as Mirage sat opposite and huffed with annoyance. “Tough cycle?” he asked casually, sliding a cube across the table.

Mirage shot Jazz a look a grunted, his arms folding across his chest. “I honestly don’t know where you find the patience to keep working with that mech,” he bit out tersely.

Ducking his helm and smirking, Jazz peered at his friend. “And which mech would that be, Raj, I work with a lot of mechs,” he asked, knowing exactly who Mirage was referring to. Prowl, he’d learned, had a distinctive personality and his straight to the point, no nonsense approach often rubbed others the wrong way. Working closely with the Praxian, Jazz had also discovered a whole, completely different side to the mech. A side that put that control streak of Prowl’s in a far more appealing light. Jazz’s smile grew a little wider as he remembered submitting completely to that control.

“You know precisely who I mean,” Mirage uttered, pulling Jazz out of his reverie.

Humming, Jazz gave his friend a shrug. “Just got to find a balance. Mech’s alright when you try to understand him a little better.”

“He is infuriating, impossible to reason with when he’s made a decision. You really think you understand him? I, as your friend, demand you share your secret, otherwise I will be forced to transfer,” Mirage bristled.

“Well you know I have an open slot for you, told you that when I first got the job, you’d be great in ops ‘Raj,” Jazz replied smoothly.

“You’re missing the point. Won’t you talk to him?”

Jazz laughed. “Mech, what makes you think he listens to me?”

****

Prowl grunted as his back scraped against the wall and he was pinned there by eager hands and a keen mouth claiming his with a fierce kiss.

Breaking the kiss with a nip of Prowl’s bottom lip, Jazz smirked. “You’re a troublemaker.”

Intakes hitched, Prowl returned the smirk and twirled his finger about a helm horn, pulling a mewl from Jazz. “And you can't resist getting into trouble. That’s what got me into this position,” dipping his helm, he mouthed over Jazz’s throat and pushed the mech back against the berth, sending them both tumbling onto the padding. Straddling him, Prowl ran his hands up Jazz’s frame and hummed appreciatively. “I certainly didn’t hear you complaining the first time.”

Grinning, Jazz rolled his hips up, biting his lower lip. “Nor the second or the third,” he added with a cheeky grin. “You’re my favourite kind of trouble, mech.”

Leaning over him and mouthing over a helm horn slowly, his glossa sliding over the smooth plating, Prowl hummed. “I do hope the only kind of trouble you indulge in?”

Pausing a klik, Jazz cupped Prowl’s face and brushed his thumb over parted lips gently. “That’s what you want?” he asked softly.

Gazing at him intently, Prowl hesitated, unsure. “I…”

“Prowl… if exclusive is what you want, I can do that, it’s alright,” Jazz murmured softly, tugging Prowl down to kiss him tenderly, swallowing the soft moan that escaped as Prowl returned the kiss eagerly. Sliding a hand between them, Jazz raked his fingers over Prowl’s panel and tapped it with a grin.

Panting as the kiss broke, Prowl pulled back and let his panel slide open, revealing his already slick valve which he ground against Jazz’s still closed panel.

Growling with want, his panel opening automatically, Jazz gripped Prowl’s hips and rocked his hips up, sliding his spike fully into the inviting heat. “Troublemaker,” he purred deeply.

“Your troublemaker,” Prowl panted, moaning as pleasure rolled through him when Jazz bucked his hips up, sinking deep into him.

“Mine,” Jazz growled possessively, curling his fingers into Prowl’s plating, holding him tightly as he picked up an eager pace, thrusting deep into the mech that had swept into his life and had turned it upside down.

 


	3. Illicit Affair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third chapter:  
> pre war, AU   
> rating: M  
> warnings: intimacy, non-explicit

Jazz strolled confidently through the grand hall, the orderly entourage following him. Upon reaching the Lord’s table, he dropped to one knee and bowed his helm, his throng following suit. “Your Royal Highnesses; Potentate Smokescreen; leader and defender of the grand realm of Praxus. Compeer Chromia; bondmate to Lord Smokescreen and Protector of the Crystal Plains. Archduke Prowl; first heir and Captain of the Royal Guard, defender of the realm and it’s outlying lands. Scion Bluestreak; second heir and master of the people and guardian of the historical records: the city state of Polyhex thanks you for your hospitality.”

Smokescreen stood and bowed his helm slightly. “Rise, Vassal Jazz, commander of the Polyhex Guards and protector of the Noble family. Welcome to my home on this most joyous of occasions, a union between our two cities.”

Jazz got to his feet and smiled at the Lord of Praxus, his hidden optics roaming over the royal family, resting on the two heirs stood just to the side of their sire. They looked very similar, but where Prowl was striking in black and white detailing, Bluestreak sported more muted grey and black tones. Both mechs were crowned with a red chevron as per the symbol of their household. The two heirs were fraternal twins but it was reported that Prowl was the oldest by mere kliks. The vassal let his optics linger appreciatively on him for a klik. “May I introduce his Lordship Ricochet, heir to the city of Polyhex and betrothed to his highness; Scion Bluestreak.”

Bluestreak’s doorwings fluttered excitedly at the announcement and he smiled brightly, that was until he felt his brother’s hand close gently about his own and squeeze it. Glancing at Prowl’s stoic features, his smile faded a little as his brother quirked an optic ridge at him; a silent command to contain his excitement. He couldn’t keep his doorwings still though, no matter how hard he tried as Ricochet approached their table and bowed gracefully before them.

“Lord Ricochet, welcome,” Smokescreen stepped forward and offered his hand to the mech to draw him to his feet. Leaning closer he gently touched the center of his chevron to the Lord’s forehelm in a traditional Praxian greeting. “I am sorry to hear of your Sire’s illness, preventing his travel to your bonding ceremony.”

Ricochet nodded, his optics dimming. “Thankyou, My Lord. I fear he is not long for this world and will soon join Primus in the well. He did not want to sully this happy occasion however and wanted to ensure that the union between our two cities was celebrated as it should be.”

“Of course,” Smokescreen smiled and glanced at his youngest. “A union of sparks is one to be enjoyed and celebrated,” he turned back to Ricochet. “I have rooms prepared for your servants and yourself. As per tradition of this great city, you shall not be permitted to spend time with Bluestreak alone until the ceremony.”

“I understand and respect your traditions, Potentate Smokescreen.”

“I am gratified to hear that, I look forward to welcoming you into my family.”

Jazz listened as the two mechs exchanged pleasant formalities and let his gaze wander once more. The protective visor he wore allowed him such indulgences and right now he wanted to indulge in the sight of the Archduke Prowl. He smirked faintly as he watched him calming his younger brother with a simple look and his spark skipped a little when the mech’s gaze seemed to meet his own. Prowl couldn’t know he was staring but being under the scrutiny of those icy optics sent a shiver down Jazz’s backstruts and he felt a yearning deep in his spark. A yearning for a different fortune and a silent wish that he’d been sparked a noble so he would’ve been able to court the remarkably attractive yet reputedly stand offish heir to Praxus.

“Prowl, would you kindly show them to their rooms,” Smokescreen commanded gently, gazing at his eldest as he returned to his place beside his bondmate.

“Of course, Sire,” Prowl bowed his helm curtly and stepped down. “If you would follow me?”

Ricochet hesitated. “With respect, Potentate Smokescreen, would I be permitted to spend some time with Scion Bluestreak, accompanied of course? It has been some time since we have seen each other.”

Chromia smiled at her mate. “It is permitted, one of the guards shall escort you to the gardens,” she gave her youngest a fond, knowing smile.

Bluestreak was practically giddy as he led Ricochet away, leaving Prowl to show Ricochet’s entourage to their rooms.

Prowl watched his brother leave before turning to Jazz. “Please follow me,” he commanded smoothly.

Jazz bowed to the Potentate and Compeer before following Prowl. “Gladly,” he murmured to himself as he fell into step just behind the Archduke, his optics roaming over those doorwings, stealing a sneaky glance of the first heir’s aft. He looked up sharply when Prowl stopped suddenly and regarded him with a cool glance. “My Lord?”

“You needn’t walk behind me, Vassal Jazz.”

Jazz opened his mouth to reply but Prowl turned away before he could and continued walking. Closing his mouth, Jazz hurried to catch up and matched the mech’s stride, walking side by side. His spark pulsed harder in his chest. Not even Ricochet asked him to walk at his side, nor treated him as an equal. He was always very fair and cordial with him, but Jazz was still a servant - one of the highest standing a servant could reach -  and was treated as such.

“You present yourself well, Vassal Jazz,” Prowl commented as he opened a set of doors leading to a number of rooms. “These rooms are for your guards and attendees of Lord Ricochet.”

“Thank you Archduke Prowl,” Jazz bowed his helm politely, halting in his step.

Prowl canted his helm slightly, glancing at Jazz. “These are not your chambers, Vassal,” he stated, heading out of the rooms and down the corridor.

Jazz smiled at his mechs and instructed them to make themselves comfortable until called upon before quickly following Prowl out. “My Lord, may I ask why I won’t be residing with my mechs?”

Prowl nodded and gave a flick of his doorwings. “A mech of your standing should have his own chambers.”

“My standing?” Jazz laughed softly. “I’m just a servant, My Lord Prowl.”

Prowl glanced at him and stopped outside another set of doors, swinging them open to reveal a comfortable room by Praxian standards but lavish by Polyhexian. “A servant who has earned his place, should be treated with the respect his title warrants. You are a Vassal and you are in Praxus. Here it is an honour to serve and many Vassals who have served for vorns are treated as an extended part of the family,” Prowl explained.

Jazz didn’t know what to say and was immediately distracted by the subtle smile on Prowl’s face. “Thank you,” he managed to murmur after recovering from his surprise. “Your generosity is warmly received, My Lord Prowl,” he bowed his helm respectfully.

Returning the bow with a slight incline of his helm, Prowl moved back towards the doors. “Make yourself at home and please, outside of a formal setting, my name is just Prowl.”

Optics brightening at that, Jazz was once again at a loss for words. Prowl was unlike any other noble he’d met previously and completely different from how the rumours portrayed him.

“As Vassal, you will be expected to attend our evening meal. I shall have my personal attendants sent to you,” Prowl added, quirking an optic ridge at Jazz’s stunned gaze. His surprise was not unexpected. What was unexpected however, was how Prowl found his gaze lingering on the mech, appraising him. It was most unbecoming of him and he checked himself quickly. Taking his leave, he gave Jazz a nod and left the room quickly. No matter how accepting of the lower classes Praxus was, any nobles engaging in relations beyond friendship with a member of a lower class, was deeply frowned upon and discouraged. In some instances, families had disowned the offending party rather than be burdened with the scandal. It was something Prowl had never considered a problem before. That was until he’d laid optics on Jazz and had felt an attraction he’d not experienced with any of his suitors.

****

The evening meal had been turned into a pre-celebratory dinner to honour the betrothed couple. Prowl watched from the sidelines with his crystal flute of high grade cradled in his hand. He smiled softly as he watched Bluestreak with Ricochet. His brother had always been a nervous, timid mech due to an accident when he had been a sparkling. He had covered up his anxiety since then with bursts of incessant chatter. Meeting Ricochet had occurred when they’d travelled to Polyhex as part of a diplomatic envoy. The heir to Polyhex had been courteous and friendly.

Prowl had for the first time seen a brightness in his brother’s optics that hadn’t been there since he was very young.

Swirling his drink idly, Prowl let his gaze wander over the well-wishers and various nobles who had turned up for the bonding. Unconsciously he found his gaze lingering on a mech that he’d only seen briefly on his visit to Polyhex and he hadn’t been vassal then.

Jazz weaved through the crowds a flute of high grade in hand. Ricochet had given him permission to socialise this evening and had cleared him of his duty for one cycle until the bonding ceremony. Jazz was making the most of his free time. Humming, he headed over to the small quintet. “Alright if I join you mechs?” he asked casually.

“Sure, what do you play?” the leader asked with a smile.

“Erhu is my favourite but I can play a lot of what you have here,” Jazz replied confidently.

The leader gestured to a free seat and let Jazz choose his own instrument. Conferring between them, they decided on a music piece and with a nod to Jazz they began to play.

Prowl’s optics brightened as he watched Jazz join the band and a smile tugged at his lips as he began to play. Sipping his high grade, he watched him play with growing interest. A servant with talent and an intelligence to move through the ranks as swiftly as Jazz had was an intriguing irregularity. Prowl found himself drawn to the mech and moved subtly to a better position in the room to watch Jazz play with less disruptions to his view.

Music was something that spoke to Jazz, gave his spark a peace he didn’t find anywhere else and allowed his processor to relax. Smiling as the music drifted through the hall, drowning out the pleasant chatter, Jazz glanced over the guests and his gaze landed on Prowl, whose sharp, ice blue optics met his own. He couldn’t hide his surprise and held the Archduke’s gaze, a small smile flitting over his lips, before Prowl averted his optics and disappeared into the crowd. Frowning a little, Jazz felt a stab of disappointment and focused on his music in an attempt to forget the limitations of his position.

Prowl made his way to a private alcove of the palace, just outside the main hall and sighed as he looked over the city. The limitations of his noble position were at times, frustrating.

“Hey.”

Prowl whirled around, his doorwings flaring out, startled. “Vassal Jazz?” he started quickly before composing himself. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“I am,” Jazz smiled and moved to stand by the balcony rail. “It’s been a while since I got a cycle off duty.”

Prowl nodded and downed a mouthful of high grade. “I saw you play. You’re quite talented.”

“My creators were both musicians, I learnt most of what I know from them. Doesn’t bring the credits in unfortunately,” Jazz replied with a sadness in his tone.

“I’m sorry you weren’t able to follow your dreams.”

“It’s alright, Lord Prowl,” Jazz threw a smile at Prowl. “Being a servant for Ricochet’s house has given me opportunities that I might not have had.”

“I’m glad to hear that and please, just Prowl.”

“If I’m not mistaken,” Jazz grinned and turned to look back into the party. “This is a formal event.”

Prowl’s mouth quirked up at the corner and he followed Jazz’s gaze. “And if I recall correctly, you are not on duty.”

Jazz chuckled softly. “Got me there, mech.”

Glancing at the vassal, Prowl finished his glass. “Jazz, would you care to share some high grade?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” Jazz flashed Prowl a brilliant smile.

****

The two mechs enjoyed high grade and settled into one of the plush sofas on the main balcony, overlooking the city of Praxus. As the high grade flowed, both mechs relaxed and the boundaries that kept them limited to their class and role in society, fell away. They enjoyed each other’s company and fell into a comfortable silence as dawn fell over Praxus, bathing it in a warm glow.

Rising to his feet, Prowl offered his hand to Jazz. “Come with me, I would like to show you something.”

Jazz accepted the hand and allowed Prowl to tug him to his feet, drawing him flush, where they both paused for several kliks, their optics locked. “What is it?”

“You’ll see, come,” Prowl kept hold of Jazz’s hand and quietly led him through the main hall which was now empty. Secluded on the balcony, nobody had realised they were there and as Prowl often left parties early, nobody had suspected otherwise.

It made moving through the palace easier. It would not do to be caught, leading a servant to his own chambers. Relations between nobles and servants were not permitted, even in the city of Praxus.

Jazz’s visor brightened as Prowl led him through a pair of ornate double doors and into a beautiful but very tastefully decorated suite. He didn’t have time to look around before Prowl pulled him out onto another balcony. Drinking in the view, Jazz stepped closer to the balcony edge and looked out over the crystal gardens. The growing light refracted through the crystalline growths and scattered a rainbow of colours through the gardens. “Prowl, this is beautiful, you must have the best view of the house.”

Prowl smiled, his optics glowing softly at Jazz. “Yes, I do,” he murmured.

“Hmm?”

Looking away as Jazz turned to him, Prowl looked out over the crystal gardens. “I am partial to this view myself, I find it relaxing.”

“Thank you for showing me,” Jazz answered softly, turning to face the room. “These are your chambers,” he stated quietly.

Prowl hesitated before answering and followed his gaze. “They are,” he murmured. “I was hoping you wouldn’t find this too forward.”

Jazz huffed a laugh. “Surprising yeah, too forward? I’ve seen worse,” Jazz smiled reassuringly at Prowl. “You’re taking a risk bringing me here though. Gossip can be deadly for a noble.”

Ducking his helm a little, Prowl smiled and took a tentative step forward. “I am. Forgive me if I do not care about the gossip that might ensue.”

Jazz also stepped forward, holding Prowl’s gaze, leaving only millimeters between them. “I care. You are the heir to this city, Prowl, I don’t want to be the mech that besmirched your reputation.”

Prowl laughed softly and reached up to brush the backs of his fingers lightly over Jazz’s cheek. “My reputation as a cold sparked, unemotional, uptight aft?” he smiled in faint amusement at Jazz and drew closer, thumb brushing over Jazz’s lips. “I think I’ll survive.”

Jazz smirked and his visor glowed at Prowl as he pressed closer, his hands wandering over those enticing doorwings on Prowl’s back. “That you will,” he purred, tilting his helm up, brushing his lips over Prowl’s.

The tease was enough of a temptation for Prowl to close the distance between them and claim Jazz’s mouth with a sweet kiss, swallowing the mech’s low moan of enjoyment.

The kiss was long, slow and deep and Prowl only broke it to lead Jazz from the balcony and into his berth room. Their hands explored and caressed each other’s frame, as their mouths swapped tender, eager kisses. Tumbling onto the berth, Prowl held himself up over Jazz and nipped the mech’s throat, glossa lavving over the small wound.

Jazz moaned and arched up, his fingers digging into the hinges of Prowl’s doorwings, pulling a mewl from the stoic mech. Their foreplay was drawn out and each mech took his time learning the other’s sweetest, sensitive spots.

It wasn’t long before their moans and whimpers drifted through Prowl’s normally empty chambers and the scraping of metal was interspersed by mewls and grunts of pleasure as they interfaced tenderly. Their fervour only increased as they chased down overload after overload, indulging in a freedom, society denied them both. They lost count of how many overloads they’d achieved and eventually fell exhausted, limbs entangled on Prowl’s berth. Spent, satisfied and content simply to stay in this stolen moment away from the pressures of society and duty.

****

Prowl stood just to the right of his Sire as Bluestreak and Ricochet knelt before him. The bonding ceremony was a simple, elegant affair, with only close friends and family permitted to attend.

Potentate Smokescreen read out the traditional vows and Prowl let his gaze wander over to the only servant permitted to attend.

Jazz's visor hid his optics well enough but Prowl knew the mech was gazing at him intently. He couldn't make any obvious gesture to him, a too bright a smile, a respectful bow of his helm for no reason; in case anyone saw but Prowl could smile for his brother's fortune.

Bluestreak was to reside in Polyhex with his bonded. This of course meant there would be plenty of opportunities to visit.

Gazing discreetly at Jazz, Prowl silently vowed many more stolen moments with a subtle smile that the vassal knowingly returned.

**  
******


End file.
